


the waning tide

by deliciously_devient



Series: Call of the Wild [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Knotting, M/M, Mating Bite, Shifted Sex, Werewolf!Jesse, Werewolves, werewolf!Hanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 11:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15929273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciously_devient/pseuds/deliciously_devient
Summary: Quarantine is always more fun with a friend.





	the waning tide

**Author's Note:**

> this is the sequel i said i wasn't going to write. monster boyfriends are happy. leave comments to feed the brain goblin

It was the sudden, sharp jolt of panic in his chest that woke him from his light doze more than the scream. Hanzo jumped up, alert and looking for threats, his hands going for the knives he usually kept under his pillow only to realize he was in McCree’s room.

 

His questing hands  _ did  _ turn up a slim pistol, and he swung it around wildly, looking for the source of his mate’s panic.

 

... _ Mate _ ..?

 

Finding nothing, he turned his eyes onto McCree, but he didn’t lower the pistol, in case there was something that he couldn’t see. The sun was just rising on the horizon, and the window was letting in enough light to paint McCree’s skin golden as he sat on the edge of the bed, face drawn in horror, breath coming in fast and choppy, staring at his lap.

 

“Jesse?” Hanzo murmured, reaching his free hand and touching the man’s bare shoulder gently. McCree looked at him, and his eyes were wide and wild, his breathing worryingly shallow.

 

“It, it’s  _ wrong,  _ I, it, they, they must have got me when I wasn’t lookin’, they  _ changed me,  _ fuck, Hanzo, I’m not, you have to lock me up,” Jesse said in a rush, his metal hand clenched around his other wrist so tightly Hanzo heard the bones creak. He could see that Jesse was quickly entering a panic attack, a bad one, and on instinct, he did the first thing he could think of.

 

He rolled onto his back, baring his belly and neck, nuzzling his head into Jesse’s lap and making a soft noise in the back of his throat. He gently placed his hands over McCree’s, pulling them apart slowly, resting the other man’s metal fingers on his throat. It was a gesture of trust and submission all in one, and slowly McCree’s breathing evened out, blinking down in confusion and adoration at the archer.

 

They stayed like that for a long moment, Jesse’s fingers clenching and unclenching on Hanzo’s throat rhythmically while his breathing settled. His warm brown eyes went half lidded, his breathing deep as he stared down at the archer. Hanzo was careful not to meet his eyes directly, instead staring at his bobbing adam’s apple.

 

“Your’s is different too,” Jesse murmured after his breathing evened out and his eyes were no longer wild. Hanzo’s brows came up in confusion, until he looked down at his cock, when Jesse gestured. At the base, where there had been nothing unusual the night before, there was now a slight swelling, the tip more tapered, and it looked...larger.

 

Frowning, Hanzo sat up and looked at Jesse’s, noting similar changes. They both looked vaguely...canine.

 

“We should see Dr. Ziegler at once,” he murmured. Sharp distaste and fear that felt foreign and familiar all at once ran through his chest, and he was certain it belonged to Jesse, if the man’s expression was anything to go by.

 

“I suppose yer right,” he said gruffly.

 

***

 

“Werewolves?”

 

“Ah, yes. Werewolves.”

 

Winston had met them in the med bay, alerted by Angela as soon as the two had shown up saying they had irregularities. Apparently, Winston had cracked the encrypted files late last night, and the fact that he’d stayed up reading them all night showed. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he had the manic look in his eyes that usually preceded someone having to threaten him out of his lab.

 

“It seems that, not only are werewolves real, they were studying them at the base we raided. Quite...unethically,” Winston said in that meandering way of his.

 

“You mean they tortured them,” Hanzo said flatly. Anger flared in his chest, echoed by Jesse, at the thought of someone under the knives of the Talon scientists.

 

“Yes,” Winston confirmed with a wince. “And I’m sure most of the information could simply have been learned by asking questions on a willing subject. But we do have a myriad of information on your...new condition. However, there’s really only information about the limits of your physical strengths, so until we know more, I’m afraid we need to confine you, at least until we know more.”

 

“You mean to make us prisoners?” Hanzo snarled, anger hot and hard in his chest as he bared his teeth at Winston. The anger was distracting enough that he didn’t notice the way his canines sharpened and extended, the way his shoulders seemed to grow wider as he stepped toward Winston.

 

“Han,” Jesse said sharply, his flesh hand coming down on Hanzo’s shoulder and squeezing. “You are growling at Winston.”

 

Hanzo blinked as his attention was drawn to Jesse, realizing that the low rumbling noise he’d heard had actually been coming from his chest. Horrified, he stepped back, squeezing his fists tight together, feeling the too-sharp points of his nails scrape against his palms.

 

“Forgive me. I don’t know what came over me,” Hanzo said, bowing slightly.

“The wolf that bit me,” Jesse murmured, wrapping Hanzo in his arms. “It’s still there, on the base, isn’t it? What if it’s still there?”

 

“We’ll send an extraction team immediately. From what I understand….it may be the only remaining person from the studies,” Winston murmured.

 

“Alright. We’ll keep tucked away in my rooms. I got a kitchenette and whatnot, we should be able to be locked in for a spell,” Jesse declared firmly. Hanzo felt like he should argue about being locked in their rooms, but thinking about being around the others when he had almost attacked Winston…

 

“I would like my bedding from my rooms,” he said, and Winston nodded agreeably. “I’ll get them myself, after I escort the two of you back to your quarters.”

 

Something about being escorted rubbed Hanzo the wrong way, and he bristled, soothed only by the warmth of Jesse’s hand on his back. He stayed silent but allowed Winston to walk them back, even though he knew he could find his own way back to their den without help.

 

Once they were alone, he began shuffling blankets and pillows around, building a makeshift nest out of the bedding and several of McCree’s serape’s, before shimmying out of his clothes. He glared at Jesse, who was staring at him with a bemused expression, and pointed to the bed beside him.

 

“Well? Get in,” he growled, and Jesse’s warm chuckle made him want to preen. The cowboy stripped off his own clothing before burrowing in beside Hanzo. There was something incredibly alluring about being close to all that skin, a closeness he hadn’t experienced before in it that made something in his chest lock into place, a piece he hadn’t known he’d been missing.

 

Hanzo inhaled deeply, his nose buried in the crook of Jesse’s neck, letting the scent of tobacco and desert air lull him. He was vaguely aroused, but it took second fiddle to the closeness. He was wrapped as tightly around Jesse as he could be, cradled in the circle of the man’s arms, their legs twined into a braid.

 

“So….guess we ain’t...human, anymore,” Jesse said, softly, an odd note to his voice. Uncertainty flared through Hanzo’s chest, and he squeezed Jesse a little tighter.

 

“I was never wholly human to begin with,” he murmured. “The Shimada are the only ones who can control the spirit dragons because we share a dragon ancestor, and are the last of the line, so to speak. It is likely how Genji survived long enough for Overwatch to find him. It is why only grievous wounds will scar for me.”

 

Jesse was silent for a moment, and Hanzo felt his lips twitch before he spoke. “Is it also why you horde the tea in your room?”

Hanzo snorted, but didn’t dignify that with an answer, instead burrowing his nose into the hollow of Jesse’s throat. There was a stillness in his scent, the bruising heat of the desert, and it soothed Hanzo down to his bones. He had avoided this for so long, he and Jesse dancing around each other like starved coyotes, each unwilling to make the first move, unwilling to give the other any kind of advantage.

 

Jesse lets out a low, deep noise, almost a purr, and the sound of it brushes up Hanzo’s spine, makes him shiver with contentment and respond with his own purr.

 

“So…” Jesse says after a long while, his flesh fingers dancing along Hanzo’s spine. “This...we...we’re connected, now.”

 

Hanzo is quiet, but now that the confusion of waking has worn off, he can clearly  _ feel  _ Jesse, the undercurrent of his emotions running side by side along Hanzo’s, similar but entirely separate from himself. He doesn’t know exactly what they have done, how they bound themselves together, but he remembers a bite scar on his mother's shoulder much like the one he now wore on his own.

 

“We’re...mated,” Hanzo said slowly, his fingers brushing against Jesse’s hipbone, tracing along the myriad of scars littered along his chest. “My father...he said that when we found someone worth our time, we would want to mark them, bite them. That if we felt the urge, it meant that person was destined to be ours, and the bond it would make was sacred.”

 

He feels a spike of regret and guilt through Jesse’s connection, tilts his head to kiss the other man. “I have wanted to mark you since the moment I met you, Jesse McCree,” Hanzo murmured softly, cupping Jesse’s cheek and holding his gaze.

 

“Well now,” the cowboy murmured, his eyes glimmering with heat as his metal fingers traced over the bite he’d left the night before, the skin raised and pink. It would fade silver, soon, a mark Hanzo would bear with pride for the rest of his days.

 

“I think it’s about time you did that, then,” Jesse murmured, and Hanzo felt himself growl before pouncing. The low grade arousal he’d felt since they’d arrived back in the room spiked, his cock hard in seconds as he shoved Jesse down, straddling the other man -werewolf?- and grinding against him.

 

“I’m going to make you mine,” Hanzo snarls softly, shuddering as his knot rubs against Jesse’s. He feels Jesse’s arousal spike sharply, something in his gut curling tight as he bares his throat to Hanzo.

 

“Ain’t got no complaints about that, now,” Jesse agrees, his eyes black with arousal. Hanzo is still loose from the previous night, but he sniffs out the lube anyway, coating Jesse’s cock liberally. He keeps one hand planted firmly on Jesse’s chest, eyes sharp with warning as he makes  _ sure  _ his mate’s cock is slick and wet. He remembers the stretch and burn of Jesse’s knot, how it filled him so perfectly, fuller than he’d ever been before.

 

Hanzo wouldn’t complain about how their last encounter had gone; he enjoyed being shoved into the mattress and fucked within an inch of his life, but there was something about the burn in his thighs, watching the person under him get mesmerized by the slow swing of his hips as he bounced on their cock.

 

And boy, did Jesse look mesmerized as Hanzo slowly sunk onto his cock, every inch excruciatingly slow. He arched his spine, throwing his head back and moaning as he lowered himself down to the hilt. It was partially because it felt good, but mostly because he knew what he looked like in this position, head thrown back, hair flowing down his back as his chest heaved, and if the way Jesse’s fingernails turned to claws on his hips was any indication, it was affecting him greatly.

 

Hanzo finally couldn’t sink any further, the soft flair of Jesse’s knot teasing what was to come, making him shudder and squeeze tight in anticipation. Jesse bucked under him, but he planted two hands on his chest, growling softly. The cowboy licked his lips, his hips stilling as he turned his neck to the side, baring his throat. Hanzo hummed in pleasure, and slowly began lifting his hips, thigh muscles flexing as he found his rhythm. He started slow, swiveling his hips in small circles on each down stroke, reveling in the small, breathy whines it elicited from his lover.

 

“God damn, Hanzo,” Jesse moaned after an eternity of this slow, rhythmic torture. “Please, you’re killing me.”

 

“Am I?” Hanzo murmurs, eyes glittering with mischief and dark promise. He leans low over Jesse, licking a line across his chest to a nipple, laving it with his tongue before giving it a vicious bite and chuckling at Jesse’s strangled moan.

 

“ _ Please, _ ” Jesse whimpers, and Hanzo breaks, unable to keep up the achingly slow pace faced with his desire and Jesse’s.

 

He snaps his hips down harshly, groaning as he angles his hips to nail his own prostate with Jesse’s cock. He bites his lower lip, revels in the burn in his thighs and calves as he slams himself down with abandon, running his own hands up his stomach and to his chest. He flicks at his own nipples, moaning, relishing the curses Jesse delivers, pride and vanity bubbling in his chest.

 

Jesse grabs his hips, planting his feet firmly in the mattress and fucking up into Hanzo, so hard he must be bruising his own hips. Hanzo allows it, too far gone and too close to the edge to care. His teeth are too sharp and too big in his mouth, and his roaming fingers find too much hair on his chest; he can hear the thundering of his own heart,  _ and  _ Jesse’s. When he opens his eyes, everything is too-sharp, too-bright, and Jesse is looking at him with a different face.

His eyes are golden, glowing, fangs spilling past his lips, hairier than normal, gaze focused entirely on Hanzo.

 

“ _ Knot me, _ ” Hanzo demands, licking across Jesse’s mouth; like this, their lips are too thin to kiss, but he tries nonetheless. “Knot me, come on, fucking knot me Jesse.”

 

Jesse doesn’t answer, growling loudly, flipping them over as he presses Hanzo’s legs up, folding him neatly in half as he plows into him viciously, the snap of their flesh sharp and violent in the small space between them. He’s nailing Hanzo’s prostate dead on like this, and it barely takes any effort before the smaller an is coming, yowling like a bitch in heat as his knot flairs uselessly in the air, painting his stomach in spend.

 

Jesse isn’t far behind him, knot catching finally, and he grinds it deep into Hanzo, panting harshly, howling when he feels sharp fangs sinking into his neck. Hanzo bites deeper, longer, his teething seemingly growing once their in the flesh of Jesse’s neck. It hurts, but Jesse leans into it, whimpering softly as he grinds his knot into his mate.

 

It’s a long moment before Hanzo releases Jesse’s throat, and the tongue he laps at the wound with is long and thin and forked. None of them really pay it any mind, absorbed in each other. Hanzo tends to the fast-healing wound on Jesse’s neck, and the other man gently nibbles on the pink scar of Hanzo’s mating bite, purring softly with contentment.

 

“You’re mine now,” Hanzo hums softly, wrapped securely around Jesse, his own eyes glowing storm-blue, his face not quite human yet, and all the more beautiful for it. Jesse smiles at his mate, nuzzling under his jaw.

 

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “And you’re mine.”


End file.
